


On Souls

by PitofInsanity



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Anxiety, Daemon Separation, F/M, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitofInsanity/pseuds/PitofInsanity
Summary: Just because you can speak directly to your would-be assassin's soul, doesn't mean friendship's any easier to navigate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after they escape the castle. The order of some events has been changed.

**Chapter 1**

 

Callum’s not quite sure what to make of the elf before him. On one hand, the glint of her swords at his throat and the movement of her wrist as she prepared to deal the final blow is forever seared into his mind. And yet…

 

Twice, she’d had him cornered, and twice, she’d been distracted. Had  _ allowed  _ herself to be distracted despite the skill and discipline she clearly possessed.

 

She could have  _ killed _ him.

 

She chose not to.

 

So when she shoves the small bottle of red liquid into his hands with a huff, he thinks - not for the first time that night - that perhaps all he’s heard about elves is false. 

 

“Drink up,” she says, jolting him from his musings. “That should tide you two over, at least ‘til we find a proper place to camp. Hopefully, won’t be much longer now,” she trails off, muttering something about “blood” and “human lies” under her breath.

 

Behind him, his brother lets out a weary sigh of relief. Ezran’s exhausted and, frankly, Callum’s not doing much better himself. The events of the night weigh heavily on his mind and he finds it harder and harder to navigate the tangled roots of the forest floor despite the brightness of the moon.

 

He uncorks the bottle cautiously and feels a pang of guilt at the distinctly fruity scent that hits him. The juice is invigorating, as promised, and surprisingly refreshing. Sweet and tangy in a way that doesn’t leave him yearning for water. He downs about a third of the bottle before passing it to Ezran for him to finish.

 

Half an hour passes before the elf deems it safe to settle down. The clearing they find themselves in is small and well hidden, and Callum is infinitely grateful for the plush grass that covers most of the area. Ezran falls asleep almost immediately, while Callum roots around the bags in search of something to use as a blanket. Winter may be gone, but the nights are still chilly, and he’d rather not risk sickness. He finds nothing, unfortunately, and is in the process of taking off his jacket to cover his brother with when the elf walks back into camp.

 

The fact that he didn’t even notice her absence unnerves him more than he’d like to admit.

 

She notices his stare and nods towards the small bundle of twigs in her arms. “It’s cold out,” she says by way of explanation. “Thought I’d start a fire.”

 

“Oh…” he blinks, “thanks.”

 

Callum fidgets uncomfortably when she pulls out a blade to spark the fire. She gives him an apologetic glance when she notices, and shifts to hide it from view. He smiles at the thoughtfulness.

 

It’s strange, he thinks. Elves have featured in many a nightmare of his. Terrible, bloodthirsty beasts who tear and rend without remorse. Yet despite the horns, and the ears, and the lack of pinkies, the elf before him is more  _ human _ than he ever thought possible.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. A twitch of an ear and a slight pause in her movements is all he gets as a response. “For earlier, I mean,” he continues, “what I said before it was… It was rude, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

 

She turns to study him and he hopes she can see the sincerity in his eyes. Whatever it is she sees, she must deem it satisfactory because she fixes him with a small smile that lets him know he’s forgiven.

 

She turns back to her work and soon they have a small fire, crackling happily against the chill of the night. He’s about to thank her when she speaks.

 

“I was wrong too, you know,” she says, pulling her knees to her chest, “ what I said back at the castle… Perhaps humans aren’t as soulless as I thought.”

 

He nods. It’s not so much an apology, he realizes, as it is a truce. There are lies on both sides of the war and they’ll need patience with each other if they are to have any hope of ending the conflict.

 

There’s something that bothers him about her choice of words though. “Soulless” she had said, not “heartless” like he would have expected. The disparity nags at him like an itch he can’t quite scratch. There was something he learned in his defense lessons, something about elves and souls that-

 

“Callum, was it?”

 

He starts at the sound of her voice and she giggles.

 

“Your name. It’s Callum, right? Or was it ‘Camel’?”

 

She’s joking, he can tell. He lets out a short bark of laughter and shakes his head. “No, no. It’s Callum. And you?” he asks, extending his hand.

 

She stares at the appendage quizzically but makes no move to take it. Instead, she thumps a fist to her chest and says, “Rayla.”

 

She pauses for a second after that, then awkwardly extends her hand without taking his. It’s only then that he realizes that she doesn’t know what a handshake is. He chuckles, grabs her hand, and gives it a quick shake. Her eyes light up in amusement.

 

“You should get some sleep,” she murmurs. “I’ll keep watch for a little while longer.”

 

He’s about to protest when the exhaustion in his system finally hits him and he yawns. Blearily he crawls over to his brother, hoping his request for her not to stay up too late is actually intelligible. He falls asleep before his head hits the grass.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Ezran awakes with the sun. The dawn air is cold and it doesn’t help that his clothes are wet from the morning dew. Luckily, there’s a cheerful fire going that someone must have set up while he slept. He figures it must have been the elf, Callum’s never been very good at outdoor activities.

 

Speaking of which, the elf seems to have disappeared. He wonders where she could be as he stretches out the kinks in his neck and back. Belatedly he realizes he still doesn’t know her name. He resolves to ask for it when she gets back.

 

There’s not much for him to do except wait for either Callum to wake up or for the elf to show herself. He passes time playing with Bait, and, when he tires of that, turns to studying a strange animal in a nearby tree.

 

It’s a bat, and, while he’s seen bats before, there’s something… off, about this one. It’s alone, for starters, which is strange in and of itself. The bats he knows are colonial creatures, he’s never seen just one. 

 

That, and it seems to be watching him just as intently as he’s watching it.

 

“Ez?” cuts Callum’s voice across the clearing and Ezran turns to see his brother sitting up with a look of concern on his face. “Where’s Rayla?”

 

Oh...  _ that _ must be her name. Ezran shrugs.

 

Callum’s eyes widen and he bolts up. Tripping over himself in his haste to get to the bags. “The egg, is it-”

 

“Have you no trust at all?”

 

Both brothers whip around in terror. The voice is not one they know, but try as they might neither can locate its source among the trees.

 

Callum darts towards Ezran and pulls his brother behind himself. The memory of last night fresh on his mind.

 

_ “I’m here for the king, and I’m also here for his son, Prince Ezran.” _

 

It was a trap! He shouldn’t have trusted her! He-

 

“ _ Terus _ !” calls Rayla from behind them. Something whizzes overhead and lands with a  _ thunk  _ against a tree branch causing the strange bat to take flight. She marches past the boys, posture stiff and angry. “I told you to  _ watch _ them, not  _ scare them half to death _ !”

 

The bat starts  _ laughing _ . A deep, masculine, human-like chuckle that leaves the boys bewildered. Rayla picks up another rock and launches it in the bat’s direction. It dodges easily.

 

“Get down here and  _ apologize _ , you  _ jerk _ !” A third rock flies through the air and almost hits its mark.

 

“Fine, fine,” breathes the bat. It lands on the back of Rayla’s shirt and clambers upward to peek over her shoulder as she turns to face Callum and Ezran. “I’m sorry. I forgot we hadn’t been introduced.”

 

Callum splutters, indignant, confused, and terrified all at once. Ezran can relate, but he’s considerably more excited. Rayla just groans into her hands.

 

“Everyone, this is Terus, my daemon, my…” she pauses, searching for the right word, “soul.”

 

“Your… soul?” asks Ezran, confused.

 

“Yes! Like… ah… You know how a bug has its skeleton on the outside?” At his nod she continues, “Well elves have their souls on the outside. We call them  _ daemons _ . Terus is mine.” She glances at them sheepishly. “Sorry again about him, he’s-”

 

“Incredibly handsome?”

 

“A troublemaker,” she finishes. Terus glares at her from his perch. She ignores him.

 

“Are they all bats?” Ezran inquires.

 

She shakes her head. “Nah, every daemon is different. One of my uncles has a snake, for example.”

 

“That’s so  _ cool _ !” he exclaims. He turns to his brother with an excited grin. “Callum what-”

 

The question dies in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

To say Callum takes the introduction poorly is an understatement.

 

In all honesty, he stopped paying attention shortly after the bat landed. Not that it’s entirely his fault.

 

He’s always had a funny relationship with adrenaline. He’s excitable by nature, and though he’s never considered himself particularly active, he doesn’t mind getting his blood pumping every so often.

 

But adrenaline’s a fickle thing. It bites without warning.

 

He stares ahead without seeing. Eyes wide and breath hitching slightly as he struggles to remember how to breathe. Dimly he’s aware of his own fingers digging into the skin of his forearms, if only because of the pain the action brings. Sharp pinpricks of clarity amidst the swirling mess of his mind.

 

Is the clearing spinning or is it just him?

 

He wants to run. He wants to hide. He wants to punch something. He wants to curl into a ball and cry. He’s breaking, falling to pieces, and all he can do is stand there and hope there will be something left of him in the end.

 

Then Ezran’s by his side, hands rubbing at his back and whispering words that he doesn’t comprehend. But the sounds and the soft touches help, somehow, and slowly he remembers how to breathe.

 

* * *

 

Terus lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when he sees Callum’s breathing settle. Beneath him, he feels the muscles of Rayla’s shoulder uncoil and realizes the tension he feels is not just his own. 

 

She sends a flash of concern across their bond, a silent question about his well being. She frowns at the uncertainty he sends back but says nothing. 

 

He’s grateful for that. Moonshadow elves aren’t supposed to show fear, so the panic on Callum’s face had thrown him for a loop. He’s only seen terror so openly displayed once before…

 

It’s not something he likes to think about.

 

They’ll have to apologize once Callum’s more stable, but for now, there's nothing to do but wait. Terus thinks of the white band on Rayla’s arm and of its sister lying somewhere on the forest floor, and hopes that any trust he inadvertently lost with his ill-thought-out introduction will be regained quickly. They need any scrap they can get.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking back, perhaps that cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter wasn't completely warranted, but it's not like I know what I'm doing.


	4. Chapter 4

Callum hears Rayla before he sees her, and though he’s still a little on edge from his panic attack earlier he didn’t expect her to be so  _ loud _ . It sounds like she’s making an effort to be as noisy as possible as she approaches him and-

 

_ Oh _ .

 

That’s exactly what she’s doing, isn’t it?

 

It’s especially telling when she returns to her usual, near-silent stride as soon as he meets her gaze.

 

The bat is nowhere to be seen.

 

She has two apples in her hands, one of which she proffers awkwardly as she takes a seat next to him. “I, uh… Thought you might be hungry. You… You do eat these right? Ezran said… Anyways, yeah. Here.”

 

Despite his wariness, he can’t help but smile at the relieved sigh she makes when he takes the apple with a quiet “thanks.”

 

“We…” she continues, “Me and Terus, I mean. We wanted to apologize. We didn’t really think things through.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” he snorts. It comes out more biting then he intends, and he squashes down the prickle of guilt that hits him when she winces. “Where did you  _ go _ ? And, speaking of which, where is  _ he _ ?” 

 

She plays with the grass at her feet for a moment before answering. “Perimeter check and food. As for Terus, he… He wanted to wait ‘til you were ready to meet him properly.” She must not find the reaction she wants when she finally looks at him, because she hastily adds, “Look, I know we didn’t meet on the best terms, but we’re on your side, okay? We want peace just as much as you do.”

 

He’s seen the look in her eyes before. It’s the same look she gave him right before they fled the castle courtyard.

 

_ “Say the word, and I’ll go back into that tower with you.” _

 

He thinks of the king - no, his  _ father - _ alone in that tower with assassins bearing down. He thinks of his mother and of her voice now faded from memory after nine long years. He thinks of the father he never even knew, killed in a raid on the border town he grew up in.

 

Peace has long been an unattainable dream, but, somehow, he’s been given a chance to obtain it. A chance in the form of a glowing egg and a girl with a bat for a soul.

 

“... Okay,” he says at last, extending his hand. “Together?”

 

Rayla beams from ear to ear, her grip on his hand firm and sure. “Together.”


	5. Chapter 5

Talking to Terus is… weird, to say the least. Callum’s not quite sure he’ll ever get used to the idea of a talking animal, but, well... here one is.

 

Callum’s seen colonies of bats fly over the castle from time to time, but he’s never had the chance to study one up close. Terus is fascinating, with his fox-like face and his wings. Oh, his  _ wings _ . Callum had thought they would be similar to a bird’s, but they  _ aren’t _ , and he can’t help but stare. 

 

He reaches for the sketchbook lying between Terus and himself, ready to capture the sight before him.

 

Rayla grabs his wrist suddenly. Her grip is gentle, but there’s a warning in her eyes that he doesn’t understand.

 

“I think he was going for the book,” says Terus, and the hint of hostility in the air disappears instantly.

 

“Oh…” she says, dropping his arm. “Sorry. Thought you were gonna touch him.” She picks up the sketchbook and hands it to him, flushing slightly. “You don’t touch someone else’s daemon. It’s taboo.”

 

He nods and opens the book absentmindedly, unsure of what to say. It lands on an old sketch of his brother and Rayla scoots closer to get a better look.

 

“You draw?” she asks, though it’s more of a statement than a question. “You’re good.”

 

“Thanks. It’s… it’s kinda the only thing I’m good at, honestly. I’m pretty useless at everything else.”

 

It’s something that’s been plaguing him since last night. Rayla and Terus may be friends now, but Ezran’s  _ still _ a target. He’ll probably always  _ be _ a target by virtue of him being crown prince and heir to the throne. And Callum, clumsy and fumbling, can’t protect him.

 

Rayla frowns. “I wouldn’t say  _ that _ ,” she says, gesturing to a ring of bruises on her arm that Callum hadn’t noticed before. “You were pretty handy with that wind spell of yours, last night. We would’ve been caught by those weird, smoke-wolf things otherwise. I couldn’t fight them off, remember?”

 

He remembers, alright. But  _ still _ .

 

“ _ That  _ was a fluke! I was just copying something I saw Claudia do once!”

 

She blinks. “Once?” she echoes.

 

“Y-yeah. Claudia showed me the spell in the library that morning… Why?”

 

“And you’ve never used magic before?”

 

“... Y-yes?”

 

She stares at him for a minute and Callum fidgets, unable to read her. Then, slowly, she begins laughing. His heart sinks.

 

“Callum,” says Terus lightly, as if sensing his discomfort. “Callum, we’re not making fun of you. It’s just that, well...”

 

“Magic is  _ hard _ , Callum,” finishes Rayla, between chuckles. “We’ve never heard of a beginner casting a spell after only seeing it  _ once _ . You’ve a knack for it.”

 

“I… I do?”

 

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Yes, dummy. You do.”


	6. Chapter 6

This is probably a really bad idea.

 

Rayla warily studies the building before her. “The Banther Lodge”, Callum had called it. The royal family’s winter getaway.

 

The lodge seems as abandoned as Callum assured her it would be, and a quick fly-around from Terus had confirmed its vacancy. Still, she knows better than to ignore the suspicion lurking in the back of her mind.

 

She and Terus wouldn’t have even been in this situation if not for the eldest prince and his insistence that they get some “magic cube” he used to play with as a child. She had tried to reason against it, but he had been so earnest and desperate in his desire to learn how to protect his brother…

 

It was the guilt that won her over in the end. The binding on her hand - tight enough now to be uncomfortable - is an ever constant reminder of what she was sent here to do. It’s the same guilt that drives her into the building despite her misgivings. She hopes that this cube thing is worth it.

 

At the very least, they could use the supplies.

 

* * *

 

She finds the cube right where Callum said it would be. It certainly is an odd thing to find in a human dwelling, what, with the runes of the primal sources covering its faces. The moon symbol glows when she picks it up, so she figures it must have some magic to it. If anything it means this trip wasn’t a complete waste of time.

 

(She squashes down the thought of its possible use for identifying ingredients for dark magic. Callum doesn’t seem the type. At least… she  _ hopes _ ...)

 

She stashes the cube in the backpack she snatched from one of the storage closets and pulls out the map Callum drew for her.  It’s amazingly accurate, she thinks. Ezran was right about his brother’s impressive memory. 

 

She’s in the middle of consulting it for the location of the kitchen when she feels a sharp tug of warning from Terus, whom she’d left near the window they’d entered through to keep watch.

 

A trumpet sounds in the clearing outside.

 

* * *

 

Terus watches from the shadow of the rafters as the figures enter the clearing on horseback. 

 

There’s six of them, armed mostly with swords and crossbows, but one has a length of chain and another a large shield. He takes note of the armor, a mix of leather and plate, and quickly passes the information to Rayla. 

 

(It’s not exactly the telepathy their father had possessed with his daemon, but decoding the familiar pattern of tugs and emotions sent across their bond was almost second nature after all these years.)

 

Terus shifts uneasily when Callum and Ezran rush forward to greet the soldiers. There’s a seed of emotion settling in his gut that he can’t quite place. Worry, maybe? Or perhaps anger? 

 

Whatever it is, it only worsens when the soldier with the large shield, the commander it seems, rushes forward to embrace them.

 

Betrayal. It was  _ betrayal _ .

 

Only… There’s something off about the two princes. Terus frowns. Have they always been that  _ stiff _ ? 

 

_ Oh _ .

 

He sends the message along and receives a mix of relief and dread in return. It’s an odd feeling, but he understands.

 

The boys are trying to buy them time. And perhaps against another set of soldiers it would have worked. But the princes’ movements are too stiff and their voices too high pitched.

 

The commander, “Amaya” he’d heard her called, squints suspiciously at the open window of the lodge and alerts her men with a wave of a hand. Terus shrinks back against the rafters instinctively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was about at this point in the story where I realized I didn’t know what I was doing. Also that I don’t know how to pace. Like... at all. Haha


	7. Chapter 7

Her nephews are hiding something. Amaya may not have seen them in years, but she can tell by the lack of eye contact and excessive fidgeting that there’s something on their minds. They’re like their mother in that way, terrible liars the lot of them.

 

She’d chalked it up to fear at first, but now she’s not too sure. When the boys had tried to stop her from entering the lodge with the flimsy excuse of not having the keys, she’d kicked down the door in hopes of relieving their fears with a show of her strength. 

 

It hadn’t worked. Callum had paled so fast she’d thought he might be sick.

 

And now, as they stand in the foyer of the lodge, her doubts only increase. Callum stands before her, arms outstretched, a protective stance. He watches her warily out of the corner of his eye as he, judging by the tilt of his head and the wideness of his mouth, yells over his shoulder into the recesses of the house.

 

The realization hits her like a kick to the gut. It’s not the possible intruder her nephews fear, but Amaya, herself, and the men she had brought to protect them.

 

Then her lieutenant’s hand is her shoulder, eyes flashing danger as he jerks his thumb towards the door. “We’re under attack,” he relays, and the two soldiers who’d followed them into the lodge turn to face her, awaiting instructions.

 

Amaya glaces at the boys. The concern writ on their faces is clearly not for her. They know the attacker and their eyes plead for mercy. 

 

She holds their gaze for a moment, then with movements quick and decisive she signs, “Capture them alive.”

 

***** ***** *****

 

Rayla slices through the reigns of the last two horses just in time to dodge the incoming bolt of a crossbow. A second follows closely behind and she silently gives thanks to the moon that the momentum of her roll was enough to carry her out of its path. The bolts bury themselves into a tree behind her, spooking the horses who flee down the road. She suppresses a shudder as she catches her breath in the relative safety of the treeline.

 

She turns her attention towards the soldiers in the clearing. One has holstered his crossbow, opting instead to rush her with a sword. Rayla meets his shortsword with two of her own, drawing him into a clash of dominance. Dimly she notes the other soldier fumbling to load another bolt.

 

The lodge door crashes open and the eyes of the man above her flit to the side. Rayla grins and quickly drops her parry, knocking him off balance. She sweeps his legs out from under him. The butt of her sword meets the side of his head with what she hopes is enough force to down him.

 

She surveys the newcomer warily as she dodges yet another bolt. Only one rushed to the aid of others, leaving three inside. 

 

Inwardly, she curses. The plan was to draw at least two out so the boys could have a better chance of running. Terus will have to improvise.

 

***** ***** *****

 

Ezran breathes a sigh of relief. His aunt may hate elves but she’s reasonable above all else. She’ll understand what they’re trying to do. He’s sure of it. 

 

Now they just need Rayla to stand down. 

 

He’s about to yell and tell her to surrender when a dark shape swoops down overhead and he ducks instinctively. He barely registers the quiet order to run that follows when a loud screech fills the air, stunning everyone in the room momentarily.

 

Everyone, save for Amaya.

 

She swats Terus out the air with a strike of her shield and he hits the wall hard. The bat’s down and dazed on the floor before Ezran can even process what happened.

 

A quick glance at his brother’s face tells him that Callum’s just as confused as he is. They watch in shocked silence as Amaya bends to examine the prone figure.

 

The short screech that rips through the air when she picks up Terus is less piercing, but much more alarming. It’s pained, _tortured_ even, and it’s not coming from the still-dazed daemon.

 

It’s coming from _Rayla_.

 

***** ***** *****

 

Rayla stumbles back into the treeline in a hasty retreat. Lungs heaving, tears streaming, and heart burning and twisting in terrible, horrible agony.

 

Someone has Terus. Her daemon. Her _soul_.

 

She cuts a small, thick stick off a low-hanging branch and bites down hard as she struggles to reign in her breathing.

 

It’s fine, she tells herself shakily. They’re strong. They’re trained. They can do this.

 

She draws herself up, blades at the ready. Still trembling slightly, but determined nonetheless. 

 

They’ve been through worse after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is around here that I realized something very important. I have no idea what I’m doing


	8. Chapter 8

It’s Ezran that breaks the silence first. Voice shaky and scared as he tugs on Callum’s sleeve and asks, “W-why did she scream like that?”

 

(Callum barely hears him, too focused on the fight happening just outside. Rayla’s thrown herself back into the fray, but even with his admittedly pitiful history with the sword, he can tell something is wrong. Her movements are too telegraphed. Too reckless. Like a wounded, cornered animal desperate to survive.)

 

The lieutenant, Gren, lays a hand on Ezran’s shoulder and perhaps it would have been a comforting gesture if not for his next words. “The elf will be fine once it tires itself out. They never last too long after we capture their familiar.”

 

“... _What_?” manages Ezran after a moment. The question feels thick and bitter in his throat. Full of confusion, and anger, and fear.

 

Gren, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice the tension in either of the boys shoulders. “Familiar,” he clarifies, “the spirit beings elves sell their souls to for power. We’re lucky this elf’s familiar was dispatched so quickly. Anyways, don’t worry. Like I said, it’ll tire itself out soon.”

 

“ _Rayla_ ,” grounds out Callum through gritted teeth.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Her name is, _Rayla_. Not ‘the elf’, not ‘ _it_ ’. Rayla. And his name,” he says, jabbing a finger in his aunt’s direction, “is, _Terus_. You’re not… you’re not supposed to _touch_ him. Put him _down_.”

 

“Prince Callum, I assure you, the elf- _Rayla_ , will be fine. This is just a precaution to ensure your safety.”

 

“ _My_ safety? What about _their_ safety? People don’t just… Scream for no reason! You’re _hurting_ them! And I… It’s all my… _Let them go_!”

 

Callum moves without thinking, launching himself at Amaya with all the force of an outraged and protective friend. And though Amaya has years of experience on the battlefield, the sight of her _nephew_ barreling angrily towards her is enough to shake her concentration. She drops the still-dazed bat in hopes of catching him, calming him down.

 

It’s not her he’s focused on though. He glances off her shoulder, all but diving for the falling bat. He catches it, cradles it, then he’s out the door and running with Ezran close on his heels.

 

Callum stumbles halfway into the clearing, unsure of where to go. There are guards between him and the forest and he’s not sure they can outrun them for long anyways. Then his brother’s by his side, tugging his sleeve insistently. 

 

“The river, Callum! The boat! We can use the boat!”

 

They take off once again, calling for Rayla to follow.

 

 ***** ***** *****

 

Rayla feels the moment Terus switches hands. Feels it like the first desperate gasp of air taken after drowning. Sweet, and uncomfortable, and needy. Like the vice grip on her heart suddenly loosened.

 

She can barely feel the involuntary jerk of her limbs, nor the sting of the shallow cut across her cheek that the action earns her. Hardly registers the shouts of friends and foes alike as she stumbles her way towards her soul, carried by unseen hands to what she hopes is safety. Because these hands don’t reek of death and hate, but of concern, and care, and fear. No, they are hands that she prays she can trust.

 

She’ll scold herself later for turning her back on the enemy. Yell at herself for rushing past Ezran in her haste, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless.

 

But for now she sits on the floor of a small rowboat, clinging desperately to a bundle of fur and leather that clings just as desperately back. And it’s like they’re thirteen again on that horrible, terrible day when they’d clung and cried for hours. Refusing to leave each other until Terus’ anger and hurt finally came to a head and he’d left her alone and despondent for weeks.

 

But that was a long time ago, and they’re here now. Together. And that’s all that really matters in the end.

 

 ***** ***** *****

 

Amaya stands on the bank of the river watching the small boat disappear around the bend. She could’ve have stopped them from getting in. She’d been fast enough to catch up to Ezran as he ran. She could’ve ended it there.

 

But he had turned to her with a fire in his eyes so reminiscent of his mother that she’d stopped dead in her tracks. And then he spoke with such conviction that she’d had to let him go.

 

_“The elf, Rayla, is under royal protection, by order of Crown Prince Ezran of Katolis.”_

 

She turns to her men and beckons to the best tracker she has. 

 

“Corvus,” she says, “follow them. They trust the elf, I want to know _why_ . And… keep them safe. _Please_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long. I got rather stuck on the chapter after this one, but I figured I might as well post this. Hopefully I’ll get unstuck soon but no promises.
> 
> Also thanks so much for all your comments and stuff! I get rather shy about replying but it always means a lot!


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